


Felt Like A Kiss

by fierybeams



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Sex Toys, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:43:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1962492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fierybeams/pseuds/fierybeams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt’s tongue stud opens up a world of possibilities that neither Kurt nor Blaine could have exactly anticipated. Character study and lots of smut naturally follow. Featuring sex toys, prostate play, heavy spanking, and anal. <b>Warnings</b> for some casual reference to Ambien, OCD, and canonical character death (Finn.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Felt Like A Kiss

It all starts with tales of that tattoo parlor. 

He’s staring at his laptop screen where Kurt’s webcam-filtered face is peering excitedly back at him. Kurt’s wrapped in a thin black bathrobe and looking slightly flushed, hair and skin noticeably damp. This, Blaine notes, perking up, is a good sign. It’s been a while since their nightly Skype sessions have led to anything beyond conversation, and Kurt taking the time to shower before calling is, well...suggestive.

Kurt looks exceedingly pleased with himself, giving Blaine a coy smirk that he hasn’t seen cross his features in weeks. Blaine grins back at him, feeling suddenly light and sunny because Kurt is  _glowing_  even through the grainy picture of the webcam and it’s been so long since he looked anything but slightly ill-lit.

“Wow, Kurt, you look...ravishing,” Blaine knows his adjectives always get a little too colorful where Kurt is concerned (several of his friends have told him as much, Sam especially), but, god, he can’t help it. “And happy. Did something happen?”

Kurt nods enthusiastically, hair bouncing and eyes a little manic. His close-lipped smile widens, but he makes no move to speak.

“Why aren’t you talking? Nothing’s wrong, right?” Kurt certainly doesn’t  _look_  like anything’s wrong, but he can be hard to read, especially lately, and even more so when Blaine’s not there to physically touch him and gauge his reaction accordingly.

“No,” Kurt begins, voice a little stilted. “I’m a little nervous about how you’re going to feel about something.”

He sounds...odd, syllables slowed down and a pronounced lisp shaping every other word. Blaine is confused. And growing worried despite himself.

“Feel about what?”

Kurt opens his mouth in reply, moving his face closer until Blaine’s laptop screen is filled completely by a reddened upper lip suspended over Kurt’s jutted-out tongue, laying thick and pink and...glinting? 

Blaine feels his mouth drop open, head swirling. 

“Kurt. Oh my god. Is that--?”

“Yes,” Kurt lisps, backing away so Blaine can see his lovely face in full again. He’s still bright but noticeably on edge, self-consciously keeping his lips pressed tightly together as he speaks. “What do you think?”

“I’m...wow, can I see it again?” 

Blaine hasn’t really answered the question, but Kurt nonetheless smiles so wide that all his teeth are visible, a genuine rarity. Blaine knows that his full-hearted approval is already tangible in every twitch of his face and inflection in his voice, and he’s barely even wrapped his head around the reality of this yet. Anything that has Kurt feeling good enough about himself to initiate sex after weeks of nothing (an assumption Blaine is still clinging to) is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Kurt curls his tongue out of his mouth, more confident this time, and,  _wow_ , there it is: a silver stud vividly reflecting the white light of Kurt’s laptop screen, its small bright ball perched enticingly near the center of the rosy muscle. After a few moments of holding the pose, Kurt flicks his tongue up against his teeth, pointing the tip and allowing Blaine to see the other end of the stud sticking out of its veiny underside. 

He pulls his tongue back into his mouth, the same vampish smile from earlier lighting his features up again. Blaine can only imagine what his own face must be doing, focused as he is on struggling to contain the warmth creeping up his neck. He didn’t think it possible to miss a tongue, of all things, but seeing Kurt’s hanging out and newly studded has an offbeat swirl of nostalgia and arousal rushing through him. He squirms where he’s sitting on his bed, aiming for imperceptibility but knowing he’s failed when Kurt’s smirk only gets wider and more knowing.

“So, you like it, then?” Kurt’s started fiddling with the collar of his bathrobe, his graceful, pale fingers stroking up against the stark black of the fabric, and Blaine hopes he’s as eager to take it off as Blaine is to watch him do it. 

“It’s incredible, Kurt, wow, I didn’t think your mouth could get any better, and look at you.” Kurt’s cheeks go pink and Blaine feels the corners of his mouth involuntarily twitch upward. He has so missed feeling capable of making Kurt happy. “I mean, I’m...surprised, though. What inspired this? How was it? Does it hurt? Aw, Kurt, tell me it doesn’t hurt.” 

Now that Blaine’s thinking about it, his tongue  _had_  looked redder than usual, and a little swollen, and he thinks he remembers hearing that tongue piercings have an especially grueling healing process, and he isn’t even there to help him ice it, or clean it, or whatever it is one does to soothe a voluntary tongue wound...

“It does hurt,” Kurt admits, voice unreadable, and Blaine feels every hope of joy he may have felt at any point of his life immediately deflate at confirmation of Kurt’s pain. “But it’s okay. I kind of...like it.” 

“Like it?”

“I don’t know. I was telling Rachel, I’ve been in this, you know, grief-induced fugue state since Finn. Everything’s felt colorless and distant.” Blaine nods, emotion swelling up in his throat, because he knows, of course he knows, he’s watched him, every night. “And this,” he gestures toward his mouth, “was like a jolt, sharp and intense, and I like that I can still feel it. Everything feels...more in focus. Crisp and defined.”

“Oh. Okay. I mean, you look that way, even from here.” Blaine’s not entirely sure he gets it, but decides not to press the issue any further. For now. 

“There’s more to show you,” Kurt replies, voice tight with excitement again. “Here, let me just...” 

He moves offscreen, repositioning the laptop until it’s settled further away from the wall he’d been sitting against. When he moves back into Blaine’s view, the black of his bathrobe has been pulled off from around his shoulders, now covering him from only the hips down. Blaine appreciatively eyes the long lines of his bare torso and arms, feeling himself begin to stiffen inside the same pair of pants he’d worn to school earlier. Kurt sits back down and turns around without a word, and Blaine is so distracted by the muscles of his back and the barest hint of his ass crack peeking out from under the bathrobe that it takes him a few moments to spot what Kurt is obviously drawing attention to: a dark line elegantly stretching across his shoulder blade. The skin behind it looks red and inflamed, and, oh god...

“Kurt, is that a  _tattoo_?” 

Kurt peeks at Blaine from over his shoulder, coy again. “Yes,” he shifts a little closer toward the laptop, and the ink in question looks a little clearer but still illegible through the blurriness of the webcam.

“Kurt, oh my god, what does it say?” 

“‘It’s got Bette Midler.’ Don’t ask, I’ll tell you the whole tragic story later, right now I kind of just want to...” Kurt turns on his knees, facing Blaine again, and Blaine wonders if he’s only imagining the hint of a bulge poking through the thin, bunched-up robe around his hips. There are more pressing matters at hand, though, because there’s no way he’s allowing Kurt to let this tattoo development go unexplained. 

“Wait, no, you’re going to have to tell me--” 

At this, Kurt sighs and drops the bathrobe entirely. Turns out, Blaine’s resolve is no match for the sight of his round hips, dark pubic hair, and pink, half-full cock, because the sentence retreats back into his mouth unfinished before the robe has even fully hit the mattress beneath Kurt. 

Oh god, Kurt’s naked, pierced and tattooed and sore and most importantly  _completely fucking naked_ , and it’s been so long since Blaine’s seen him like this, confident, turned on, bright and eager. Blaine makes a strangled noise, admitting defeat. The story will be just as good post-sex, he reasons. Better, even. Literally anything can be improved by occurring in the afterglow of watching Kurt orgasm.

Blaine untucks his own shirt and pulls it off over his head, throwing it to the side and moving his laptop off his thighs for a moment while he moves to unbutton his pants.

“Oh, thank god,” he hears Kurt sigh, relieved, “I’ve been so horny since the tattoo parlor, Blaine, I was half-stiff inside my pants. Can you believe that? I haven’t had a waking erection in weeks and I spring one in front of the 40-something year old man whose gloved hands were holding my tongue in place.” 

Blaine pauses at this, looking over at where Kurt is running a couple of fingers teasingly up his own cock, intently watching Blaine undress. “Oh. Was he hot, or something?” Blaine’s trying not to feel a little put out.

“No,” Kurt laughs. “Just...the situation was hot, I guess? I was sitting shirtless in his chair, back still stinging from my new tattoo, and he pulled my tongue out of my mouth and clamped it down, and there was so much anticipatory build-up until finally the metal was pressed against me and sliding through...”

Blaine moans at that, setting feelings of upset aside. It’s another thing they can talk about later. He slides his pants and briefs off with some difficulty. “Okay, how do you want me?” 

Their Skype sex in the past has consisted mostly of them staring into each other’s faces, hands and erections offscreen, but tonight feels different. Kurt is bolder and sharper and sitting in changed skin. Blaine has some very specific ideas about how he’d like to see Kurt in whatever is about to follow, so he figures it’s only fair to ask for Kurt’s own requests first. 

“I want to see all of you,” Kurt whines, “But I guess I can settle for just being able to see your cock, I know we usually don’t do it that way, but...”

“No, it’s fine, I know. You’re changed, we’re changed, let’s try something new. I have an idea.”

Blaine pushes his laptop closer to the middle of the bed before settling onto his knees a couple of feet away. He looks carefully at the screen, noting with satisfaction that it’s not far away enough that he’ll have to strain to see the details. “Is this okay?”

“Oh, yes, you look amazing, I’ve missed your dick...”

“God, Kurt.”

“Okay, so, how do  _you_  want me? I suspect you have some demands of your own.”

Blaine bites his lip, distracting himself by reaching into his nightstand to retrieve lube before answering. 

“Um, yes, I do. So, you know the thing I have for Adam Le--”

“Adam Levine, yes, Rachel reminded me of that when I asked her if she thought you’d be mad about the tattoo, actually,” Kurt’s smiling, fingers still gently working up and down the length of his cock. 

“I really want to be able to look at your tattoo. While we do this.” 

Kurt considers this for a moment. “Hm. Well, that could work with an, ah, additional detail I had in mind.” 

“Additional detail? Do tell.” 

Kurt has  _that look_  on his face again, the one that Blaine has come to identify in this past fifteen minutes as the look Kurt gets before making an earth-shattering and saucy reveal of some kind. His stomach twists nervously, cock twitching. He isn’t sure how much more of this he can take. There are  _already_  so many new details he doesn’t know what to do with.

“Okay, I hope this won’t weird you out.” Kurt bends and stretches over the bed, reaching for something on the floor beyond the bounds of what his webcam can capture. Blaine emits a contented squeak at the sight of the one perky ass cheek the new position allows him. He hopes he never reaches a point where he’s anything less than utterly thrilled to catch glimpses of Kurt’s bare skin. 

Blaine can hear the sound of something opening as Kurt exhales with the effort of his awkward position over the bed. After a few moments of offscreen struggle, Kurt re-emerges, a bottle of lube in one hand and....something else in the other. 

Kurt only leans forward and raises the object to the foreground. It’s now obstructing his view of Kurt’s face, but Blaine just  _knows_  he’s smiling fiendishly, and he knows why, because there’s no doubt at all about what Kurt is displaying for him: it’s the sleekest vibrator Blaine has ever seen in his life, elegant and slim, and  _of course_  Kurt would have found something this aesthetically pleasing to stick up his ass. It’s a bright, wine red, vibrant but understated, a few inches long and featuring a gentle upward curve. A complex set of buttons sits at the white of the toy’s base, and Blaine feels himself go stiffer than he’d previously thought humanly possible as Kurt starts excitedly twirling the toy for him.

“Kurt, I cannot believe...how. Oh god. Did you buy this today, too? What’s gotten into you?”

Kurt pulls the vibrator back, revealing exactly the self-satisfied grin on his face that Blaine had known in his gut had been there the whole time. 

“Do you like it? I actually ordered it in an Ambien-addled haze a while ago, back when we had just broken up. Its name is Billy.” 

And...oh. A while ago? Blaine can’t believe Kurt has owned this for  _that_  long and this is the first he’s hearing about it. Truthfully, he’s a little surprised Kurt owns something like this at all. A red prostate massager would never have struck Blaine as the kind of thing Kurt would actively seek out, but, then again, neither would have tattoos or tongue piercings, and here he is, bearing both. 

Kurt’s owned this for almost a year and Blaine had no idea. For all Blaine knows that thing has been inside of Kurt more times than he himself has been. He feels suddenly like he’s sinking, staring hopelessly at this dick-shaped piece of silicone that has emerged out of nowhere to embody everything about his fiancé that he’ll never get to fully know or touch. 

“Do you...use Billy often?” Blaine tries to remain calm, but every inkling of unease he’s suppressed throughout this entire conversation is vindictively re-emerging. 

“Not  _that_  often.” Kurt’s eyeing Blaine carefully, and Blaine knows his mild distress must be apparent. “Mostly on nights that I have free, and when I feel like taking time and treating myself.” 

“Even after we got engaged? I can’t believe this didn’t come up sooner.” 

“Oh god, you’re not...actually upset, are you? We’re both far too naked and far too erect for anyone to be upset. It’s just a toy, Blaine.” 

“I’m not upset!” It’s practically a yell, and Blaine knows he’s frowning despite himself. He  _knows_  he’s ruining all of this. Kurt is feeling buoyant and confident and trusting Blaine with things and here he is, spoiling it. But he can’t stop now. “It’s just...all of a sudden you have a tattoo and a piercing and a fancy vibrator and you’re in pain and you...like it? Where is any of this even coming from? Sometimes I just don’t understand.” 

“Oh,” Kurt frowns, picking up the bathrobe to cover himself up again. “Blaine...”

Blaine sighs, picking up his laptop and sitting back, laying it on his now bare stomach. 

“I’m sorry. This has just been a lot of new information. And I hate that I feel like I’m watching all these developments in your life from a distance, and that there are things that happen and things you do that I don’t know about. And. I don’t know. I just wish I was there.”

Kurt has followed Blaine’s cue to resume the usual Skype position, webcam now focused back on his face. Blaine feels a little bit like crying and realizes that he’s unlikely to be able to perform for Kurt any time soon and Kurt had just wanted sex and Blaine lost his cool from one moment to the next over a sex toy and,  _god_ , he’s the worst. 

“Blaine, I know,” Kurt’s voice is soft. “I shouldn’t have sprung so many new things on you at once. Things have just been off for me lately. I’ll put Billy away.”

Blaine laughs, embarrassingly teary. “Poor Billy. He had a big night ahead of him.” 

“He’ll live. I mean, he came with a ten-year quality guarantee, so he’d better.” 

Blaine smiles, composing himself and finding comfort in Kurt’s familiar wit. “So what even inspired you to order it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve ordered a lot of weird things under Ambien’s influence during my time here. I’m not even sure this is the most embarrassing example.”

“I didn’t know you took it that often.” And there it is. Another Thing Blaine Did Not Know. The ache returns. 

“I don’t anymore,” Kurt promises. “But, you know. We were broken up, I was living in a new city, my dad got sick. It was difficult. I mean, everything still is, but I’m finding new ways of dealing.” 

“Like painful body modification,” Blaine suggests, playful but curious. 

“Yeah, apparently,” Kurt looks down, smiling. “That’s a new discovery for me, too, not something I’ve been hiding or anything.”

“You mean like you hid Billy.” Blaine’s relieved to find he’s at least a little amused, even as he clings to his accusation.

“Blaine! I didn’t  _hide_  Billy. I mean, I did, but only technically. How was I supposed to casually work that into conversation? ‘Oh, by the way, Blaine, I just thought you should know I occasionally diddled myself with a personal massager while we were broken up.’” 

“So you haven’t used it since we got back together?” Blaine’s not sure why he’s hung up on that detail, but the question spills out of his mouth before he has time to think better of it.

“I don’t...maybe once? I don’t remember exactly. There wasn’t a whole lot of time between me leaving Lima after the engagement and having to go back again for...you know.”

“It’s possible I overreacted,” Blaine concedes, smiling when Kurt shoots him a sardonic look. “It’s just weird to think there was this sexual thing you’ve been doing for months that I haven’t known anything about. Combined with the surprise tattoo and piercing, it’s just a lot. New, sharp-edged pieces in the Kurt Hummel puzzle.”

“Hm. I like that. Anyway, it’s impossible to be upset with you right now. You’ve made me talk a lot and haven’t laughed at my ridiculous lisp  _once_.” 

“It’s become less noticeable,” Blaine lies, laughing when Kurt pouts, unconvinced. “Okay, now that we’re back to that, though: I  _need_  the whole story now. ‘It’s got Bette Midler,’ Kurt, what does that even  _mean_?” 

Blaine is eager for the explanation, though he is appreciative of the fact that Kurt naturally ended up with a tattoo so difficult to comprehend. It’s fitting, and soon Blaine will be one of the few people Kurt will trust with the narrative that accompanies it. He feels a little closer to him already. 

“Oh, boy. Okay, I’ll tell you, but just know that if I get into this story right now the likelihood of our having any kind of sex will vanish, because it’s a doozy and talking with this thing in my mouth is difficult and exhausting.”

Blaine’s holding back his giddiness. He loves sex with Kurt, and his erection hasn’t even fully diminished yet, but it suddenly feels secondary to...everything else. His fiancé is strange and unpredictable and filled with color and he kind of just wants to hear him talk about how odd and wonderful he is, Billy and boners and Blaine’s own insecurities be damned. 

“That’s okay with me if it’s okay with you.”

“It is. I think maybe we need this more,” Kurt shifts, shrugging his bathrobe back on fully. “So, I guess it all started when Rachel came home from  _Funny Girl_  rehearsals with a wig on and immediately launched into a diatribe about how boring I’ve become...”

“A wig? Why a wig?”

As Kurt pulls an exasperated face and inhales in preparation of the story to come, Blaine yanks his blanket up over himself, settling back comfortably and feeling warm all over. Technically, the way they’re ending this session is no different than the way they’ve been ending them every night for the past few weeks since Finn’s passing, but he feels the possibility of something new opening up nonetheless. 

***

That “something new” becomes a little clearer to him a few weeks later, when Kurt reveals that he’s taken the tongue piercing out and is going to allow it to close up.

This surprises Blaine. Kurt had seemed so fond of it. He asks why, that old nervousness settling in his chest again.

“You never know when I might want to feel the sting of getting it pierced all over again,” Kurt replies, rolling his tongue in his mouth, eyes electric.

Blaine bites back a gasp, and when he’s jerking his own cock off in his hand a few minutes later, staring into the webcam-hazed image of Kurt’s blissed-out face, he comes harder than he’s come in weeks. 

***

It’s nearly a year later when the spark of possibility that Kurt’s phantom tongue stud represented is set properly ablaze. Kurt’s head is lying on Blaine’s lap, his long, denim-clad legs stretched across the couch they’re both resting on. Blaine’s been rubbing soft, soothing strokes up and down the bone of Kurt’s hip, eager to help take his mind off, well, everything. 

It’s been a rough semester for both of them, their NYADA courses getting more demanding as the pressure to pursue worthwhile extracurricular opportunities intensifies. Kurt’s musical work at retirement homes and shelters had failed to impress the fearsome Carmen Tibideaux, and Blaine’s own success at landing small but respectable gigs elsewhere had only caused more strain for both of them. It was Burt’s recent health scare, though, that had really sent Kurt over the edge, much as both Burt and Blaine assured him it was nothing as serious as the cancer scare from Blaine’s senior year. 

Outwardly, Kurt is as composed as he ever is, of course. But Blaine can see the cracks beneath his polished and elaborately coiffed exterior, visible in the strategic, rhythmic tappings of his fingers where he thinks that Blaine can’t see.

It comes as little surprise, then, when Kurt places his hand over Blaine’s, moving it off his hip and releasing before declaring, “I’m thinking about going back to the tattoo parlor. Maybe getting that tongue stud back in.” 

Kurt’s staring at his feet, determinedly avoiding looking up at Blaine. Blaine considers him carefully, the nervous flexing of his toes and the fluttering of his eyelashes against his face. He thinks about that tongue stud often, about the shock of having it first revealed to him over Skype all that time ago and the confused arousal of Kurt taking it out with the intention of one day re-opening the hole. It flashes through his mind every time he runs his lips or a finger over the line of inked text on Kurt’s back, that ever-present reminder of his fiancé’s capacity for reckless changeability. 

He thinks about it also every time he happens upon that big, locked trunk under their shared bed, the one he  _knows_  houses that vibrator that Blaine had foolishly panicked over. They weirdly have never talked about it since, and Blaine has still only ever seen it through his laptop screen that one time. He wonders, sometimes, if Kurt still uses it; just as he wonders what else is hidden away inside that bolted crate. 

“You’re being quiet,” Kurt notes, interrupting Blaine’s stream-of-consciousness. “Do you disapprove?”

“It wouldn’t stop you if I did,” Blaine laughs, watching an agreeing smile spread across Kurt’s lips. “But I don’t. Disapprove, I mean. I was just thinking, maybe...”

Kurt looks up at him finally, cobalt eyes curious. “What?”

Blaine stares back at Kurt, resolute, because, screw it, he can be strange and adventurous, too. 

“Maybe there’s something I could do for you that would achieve a similar effect.”

Kurt sits up at this, back straight and face intrigued. 

“Oh? What do you have in mind?” He sounds breathless, cheeks flushed pink. This is already livelier than Blaine’s seen him look for at least a few days, and he feels a swell of pride and something a lot like arousal.

“Well, back when you first got it, I remember you mentioning that there was something about the sting that you enjoyed.” 

“Yes, that was part of it,” Kurt nods. 

“We’ve never tried, um,” Blaine pauses, cursing himself for his sudden shyness. This had gone smoother in his head. “Um. Spanking.” He hopes the tan of his face is hiding the warm blush he feels heating his cheeks and ears. 

“Oh,” is all Kurt says, lips parted and face newly unreadable. 

“I mean, I’m not...I don’t know if it’s the same as a piercing, exactly, but--”

“No, Blaine, I mean, it’s probably not, but. Yes. Yes, I think I’d like to try that. I think that could work.” 

Relief floods through Blaine, skin cooling. “Oh, good, I mean, tongue piercings are well and good, but we wouldn’t be able to kiss or do all kinds of things for a while, and I’m not sure I could deal with that.” 

“You’re right, that would be pretty selfish of me,” Kurt laughs, moving a hand to Blaine’s hip. Blaine preens at the reward of contact. 

Blaine’s thinking of that one Skype session so long ago, how it had seemed to him on some level at the time that Kurt was expressing desires he didn’t feel ready to understand or fulfill. He thinks he’s ready now. 

And it’s maybe because he already has that conversation on his mind that he asks, “Do you still own...Billy?”

Kurt’s face goes cold, as Blaine worried it might. There’s always been something terrifying about the way the warm pinks of his complexion can so quickly turn to steely blues. Blaine tenses.

“I do,” Kurt begins, carefully. “Why, are you going to get upset again?”

“No!” Blaine quickly defends himself. “I want to use it. I mean, I want to use it on you, if you still like it.” 

“I haven’t used it since the night I told you about it,” Kurt confesses, and Blaine feels equal parts guilty and pleased. Then guiltier for feeling pleased at all. “But, sure, we could use it sometime.” Kurt looks a little confused, but compliant. 

“I was thinking it might be nice to...incorporate it into the spanking. To have it inside you while I do it.” 

Kurt startles. “Woah. You’ve thought about this before.” It isn’t teasing or a question, but a simple matter of fact, and Blaine kind of loves that Kurt reads him so easily. 

“Sort of,” Blaine admits, face heating again. He isn’t sure how to explain why this scenario makes such an easy sense to him, it just somehow feels like the perfect closure for all that weirdness when Kurt had first brought the red-dyed piece of silicone out, tongue swollen and looking full of reinvigorated life. He’s no longer scared of anything that Kurt implicitly revealed to him that night. He wants to help him explore it. 

“Okay. I think that might be...a lot, like, too much, maybe, but we can try it. I really want to try it.” 

Kurt’s smiling, rosy and excited, and Blaine can feel his own heartbeat thrumming in his throat. This is a big deal, he knows, it’s about Kurt and Kurt’s happiness and Kurt’s stability, and Blaine doesn’t want to mess it up. Kurt is trusting him with all of these things, and Blaine won’t let anything happen to make him regret that. 

Kurt looks down at his phone, mentally calculating something before shyly looking up. “Would today...be too soon? It’s still early, and I know you have that recording stuff to do with Artie, and I think that by the time you got back from that I could be ready to...”

“Oh! Wow, yeah, I think today would be fine, if you feel up to it,” Blaine’s weighing his schedule for the rest of the day. The favor he’s doing Artie shouldn’t take too long, and afterward he can sit at a coffee shop for a while and do research. That kind of pre-planning is usually more Kurt’s thing, but Kurt gets reckless every now and then, he gets permanent body modifications on whims and runs into violence-stricken alleyways and gets hurt, and sometimes Blaine needs to step up and swath the both of them in protective bubble wrap when Kurt’s head is occupied elsewhere. “Yeah, I could be back by around seven, maybe?” 

Kurt leans in to kiss him, soft and grateful, positively  _beaming_  when he pulls away. 

“I’m a little nervous,” Kurt exhales, voice high. “But that’s good, right? Feeling things properly. Letting myself feel.” 

“Yes, yes, that’s good,” Blaine reassures him, swallowing down his own dizzy anxiety and convincing himself that he already feels lighter.

***

Blaine comes home to a still loft, the muted sounds of the shower running the only indication that Kurt is present and getting ready to go. 

By the time Blaine has moved to their room and finished changing into a more loosely fitting, comfortable outfit, he hears the stream of water come to an abrupt stop. Blaine smiles to himself, comfortably used to this routine and knowing it’ll still be a few minutes before Kurt emerges, exfoliated, fresh inside and out, and near trembling with excitement. 

He notices with a small thrill that Kurt has already taken the red vibrator out, perched tidily on his desk next to a bottle of lube. Blaine picks it up, turning it in his hands. It’s smaller than it’d looked on camera, lighter than he’d expected, slim in girth and only about six inches long. It feels good to have it out in the open, to experience the tactile feel of it in his palm after all that time spent knowing it was locked away just out of reach, somehow still representative of a period of Kurt’s life that Blaine was shut out of. All that symbolic terror Blaine had burdened upon it melts away in this moment of contact: in his hand now, it’s just a piece of silicone and plastic, nothing more. 

He’s just about to start fiddling with the buttons at its base when he hears light footsteps behind him, freezing. 

“So you’ve met Billy, I see,” Kurt announces, voice soft. “Isn’t he pretty?” 

Blaine nearly drops the toy to the ground, unsure why he feels suddenly embarrassed to have been caught with it in hand. He’s about to be doing a lot more with it, after all, and at his own request. He puts it down and turns around, the heat of his skin intensifying when he sees Kurt, wrapped in that same black bathrobe from over a year ago. He wonders if it was an intentional detail, especially since Kurt has been tending toward pastels lately, light blue particularly.

“Not as pretty as you,” Blaine insists, leaning back against the desk. “You look wonderful.” 

“I’m in a  _bathrobe_ ,” Kurt protests, but his cheeks go a little pink anyway. 

They remain standing for a few moments, each staring expectantly at the other. Blaine thinks it’s a true testament to their relationship that it’s not awkward, with a sex toy sitting just behind him and the promise of a spanking hanging heavy in the air. 

“So,” Blaine breaks the silence, earning a giggle from Kurt. “Can you put underwear on, beneath that?”

Kurt looks slightly affronted. “What? Why?”

“Because I want to do...it through the fabric before moving onto the bare skin. So you can get a feel for it.” 

“Oh,” Kurt smiles, moving to a drawer. “That’s perfectly reasonable.” 

Blaine draws his attention back to the vibrator as Kurt shimmies his hips into a pair of briefs beneath his robe. An absent-minded twiddle of his thumb against the button panel sends slow, rumbling vibrations from the toy all the way up to the socket of his shoulder.

“Woah,” he says aloud, marveling at the fact that this is only the lowest, slowest setting it offers. He feels slightly dizzy just imagining where it goes from here. “Billy has some real strength.”

Kurt glides up behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle. “Oh yes, he’s very vigorous,” he whispers into his ear, voice low. “He’s no match for you, of course. Your enthusiasm is unrivaled.”

Blaine shuts it off and places it back on the desk, turning around to return Kurt’s embrace. He slots his face against the crook of Kurt’s neck, breathing deep. 

“I think I’m thicker than him, too,” he offers, dropping a harsh kiss just above Kurt’s collarbone. 

“Hmm,” Kurt responds, dubious. “I don’t know.” 

“Hey!” Blaine drops a hand to tap the soft mound of Kurt’s ass, exaggeratedly gentle. “If you want more where that came from...”

“Oh god,” Kurt laughs, “You know, I’m not entirely sure I do. But I felt that way before the tattoo and the piercing, too, so I think maybe that’s a sign that I should.” 

Blaine tightens his hold around his waist, leaning his head back to stare into his face, nervous and bright and utterly stunning. 

“We can stop this at any time,” he reminds him, firmly, because it’s important that Kurt understands that. 

“I know,” is Kurt’s immediate response, and he’s defensive,  _stubborn_ , like he’s never done a stupid, reckless thing in his life. Blaine remembers purple bruises on his skin, blood-red cuts on his face, and his grip grows tighter. 

He takes Kurt’s hand in his, guides him toward the bed, setting himself down with a bounce. Kurt, still standing, moves his hands immediately to the belt holding his robe together. Blaine stops him with a whispered  _not yet_. 

“Let’s take this slow,” he suggests, rubbing two fingertips against the dip of Kurt’s waist. “Sit down with me.” 

Kurt assents, exhaling as he sinks down onto the mattress, satin-covered hip nestling against Blaine’s thigh. 

“Oh, you’re much more considerate of my anxiety than Louis was.” 

“Louis?” Blaine sincerely hopes this isn’t Kurt’s way of dropping another bombshell on him. 

“My tattoo artist.” Kurt looks amused. Of course he does.

“Oh, right. I remember.” Blaine raises a hand to his face, fingers splayed out from the apple of his cheek to the sharp curve of his jaw. He presses his lips against Kurt’s, sliding his tongue into his mouth when Kurt immediately opens up to allow him entry. Blaine pulls away only to drop sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on his chin, then jawline, down, finally, to his neck, suckling until Kurt’s chest is pressed up against him, heaving slightly as his intakes of breath grow noticeably sharper. 

“You’re so--  _ah_  -- good at that--” 

Blaine smiles against his neck, pressing his teeth softly against the spot under his earlobe that always gets him the strongest reaction. Kurt emits a sound somewhere between a squeak and a moan, grasping onto Blaine’s wrist. 

Blaine retreats, admiring the spit-slick trail of pink he’s left behind. Kurt’s sensitive skin reddens so easily, Blaine can’t even imagine what his impossibly pale ass is going to look like after tonight. He’s pleased to find that the thought fills him with more eagerness than nervousness. It’ll be nothing, after all, compared to that tattoo, surely. 

He pulls his eyes away from Kurt’s neck to catch him palming himself through his robe, eyes closed tight and lips still parted open. He replaces Kurt’s hand with his own, teasing the stiffening bulge beneath it and delighting at Kurt’s grateful moan. Kurt leans back, the black collar of his robe sliding down to reveal more of his toned chest, nipple only just out of sight. Blaine stares intently, hoping that each swell and accompanying contraction of Kurt’s torso will be the one that manages to unveil that coral little nub, twisting his neck to allow himself the most promising possible view. 

It’s only after a few moments of distracted crotch rubbing and determined staring that Blaine regains enough composure to remember that the power to disrobe Kurt is entirely in his hands. There’s something about the unintentional tease that he’s enjoying, though, and he moves his other hand to Kurt’s chest, softly circling the nipple where it lays still hidden beneath the black fabric. He feels it perk up beneath the pad of his finger, and Kurt’s back finally arches just enough to send the collar sliding further down, the entirety of his collarbone now exposed above the coppery pink peak, a circlet of sex-flushed color popping enticingly against the white of his skin and the sable of his gown. 

Feeling ridiculously victorious, Blaine tweaks the laid bare nipple between his thumb and forefinger, watching happily as Kurt whimpers and lays back, inviting Blaine’s hand to stay in place with a hold on his wrist. Blaine slides further down the bed as he squeezes and then rubs the hardened piece of flesh between his fingers, second palm still lightly brushing at Kurt’s crotch. Kurt is panting, head rolling back as Blaine continues teasingly stimulating the erogenous zones beneath his hands, barely conscious of his own rapidly stiffening erection in the face of Kurt’s unbridled pleasure. 

Bringing himself to stop his aimless rubbing, Blaine pulls finally at the belt around Kurt’s waist, spreading his robe open around him where he’s laying flat against the mattress. Blaine’s breath catches in his throat at the sight: Kurt’s long white body left open and undefended, contrasting splendidly against the dark satin material draped loosely over his arms. The subtle swell of his pecs is emphasized by the downward slope of his waist and rib cage, the flat creamy stretch of his stomach drawing Blaine’s eyes down to the turquoise blue of the pair of briefs he’d slid into. His cock is straining against it, curved beneath the tightness of the cloth, lightly hair-covered thighs thickly bulging out and tapering down to slim, well-muscled calves. 

Blaine bends down to drag his lips against the soft skin at Kurt’s belly, grunting when he feels Kurt’s cock twitch against his cheek. He trails his open puffing mouth down the length of Kurt beneath his briefs, pecking his lips across the insides of his hair-speckled thighs when they part open in response. 

“You’re too good to me,” Kurt gasps above him, high voice trembling. 

Blaine pulls away, squeezing a hand between the mattress and the small of Kurt’s back to get him to sit up. He pulls the robe off of Kurt entirely, letting it slide down his broad shoulders and arms as Kurt breathes heavily, cheeks flushed with color. Blaine licks a strip up his throat, sealing it with a loud, smacking kiss at his jawline. Kurt giggles, silly and carefree, and Blaine finds himself wishing he could stretch this night out into eternity, so he’d never have to see his eyes grow dim and distant ever again. 

Blaine runs his hand down Kurt’s side, surveying the way his smile shifts from mirthful to blissed out, eyes fluttering shut again. He stands up, retrieving the toy ( _Billy_ , he reminds himself, trying not to laugh) from the desk, taking a moment to admire Kurt from the new angle allowed him. Kurt’s eyes remain closed, his hand back at his crotch, head tipped back. He looks snowy from this distance, unpigmented but for the dark of his hair, the flush of his nipples, and the bright blue-green of his underwear. 

Pacing back over to him, Blaine sets the vibrator down on the edge of the bed, placing his hands around Kurt’s shoulders. Kurt looks up at him, freakishly youthful from the dramatic angle, eyes wide and electric blue. 

“You still want to do this?” It’s not often that he can easily read an expression on Kurt’s face, but he thinks he already knows his answer. He’s seen it written into every twitch of his mouth and hitch in his breath over the past fifteen minutes. 

“Yes,” Kurt confirms aloud, tilting his head up, jaw set and brow determined. Just like that, the youthfulness melts away, mature resolution taking its place. “I trust you.” 

“Okay,” Blaine breathes, chest tight. “Can you lie flat on your stomach for me?” 

Kurt does as he’s asked, folding his arms neatly in front of him and resting his head down, body stretched horizontally across the bed. Blaine runs his fingers over the tattoo emblazoned in small text across his back. He loves how much Kurt loves this thing, loves that it helped pull him out of a deadened trance once upon a time. Especially loves that it provided the clue for how Blaine could help do that himself the next time it was needed. 

Goosebumps crop up under Blaine’s feather-light strokes, Kurt’s hips shifting. Much as Blaine loves just looking and touching, much as he’s sure he could do it for hours without getting bored (and has, in fact, come close to doing so before), he knows Kurt needs their regular routine dramatically disrupted tonight. 

He picks the toy up, rolling it in his hands before tracing it over the upper hem of Kurt’s briefs, right at the base of his spine. Kurt’s hips rock up slightly, the compact roundness of his ass threatening to distract Blaine from his current goal. Pushing past the desire to motionlessly watch Kurt’s hips move, Blaine runs the tapered tip of the vibrator down over the crack of Kurt’s ass where he can just barely make it out through the thick aqua material. He moves it down until Kurt’s thighs have parted further and presses it gently against his covered perineum, rubbing in soft, clockwise motions for a few moments before moving his thumb against a button at the base and turning it on. 

Kurt makes a quiet, strangled noise at the back of his throat, pushing back against the toy’s edge. Blaine increases the power of the vibrations, marveling at how overpowering it feels even in his hand. He intensifies the pressure with which he’s holding it against the spot just before Kurt’s balls, keeping it still for a few seconds before moving it up the mound of Kurt’s ass again, digging through the briefs to dip slightly into Kurt’s crack. Once he’s reached the approximate center of the fleshy swell, he pushes in further, watching the device sink as far between the cheeks as it can manage through the taut fabric. With a flick of his thumb, Blaine sends the toy buzzing to an even higher setting, searching for Kurt’s asshole with minute motions and knowing he’s found it when Kurt gasps and follows the sound with a frantic  _Blaine_. 

Blaine pushes harder, cranking the toy up once more and quickly jerking it back and forth across the indented center until Kurt is rutting up against it and then back down into the mattress, hips pumping as he squeaks out Blaine’s name in arrhythmic spurts. Blaine pulls it out, pleased to see that the cloth of the briefs has settled comfortably inside Kurt’s cleft, allowing Blaine a near-perfect view of the outline of both round cheeks. Contented, he hauls the violently throbbing toy back behind Kurt’s ball sack, hitting the button a final time and sending it reeling into its highest possible setting. Blaine looks up at the side of Kurt’s face visible to him where his mouth is hanging open and his hand is fisting the sheet beneath him, lips forming soundless cries. He looks utterly debauched, pale skin set ablaze, and they haven’t even gotten to the central act yet. Blaine becomes once again cognizant of his own, near painful arousal, cock pulsating with an intensity so profound Blaine can practically  _hear_  it, but he reminds himself he needs to focus on Kurt first. 

Without warning, Blaine turns the toy off and deposits it back at a corner of the mattress, giving Kurt’s firm thigh a squeeze when he makes a wordless complaint. Blaine probes his thumb into the darkened groove where Kurt’s ass has sucked the material of his underwear up, dragging it downward and massaging rough strokes over the slight, warm dent of his rim. Kurt moans again, louder and throatier than he had for  _Billy_ , and Blaine tingles at the suggestion that his simple, non-vibrating flesh can do more for Kurt than a luxury, scientifically-engineered massager can manage. 

Grinning proudly, Blaine places the palms of both hands on the plump rises of Kurt’s backside, kneading them roughly. Kurt sighs contentedly, as he always does when Blaine pays this particular body part special attention. The sweet sound of it both gratifies Blaine and reminds him that tonight is about  _escaping_  this usual order of things, and so, a little reluctantly, he moves his hands to the sides of Kurt’s hips instead, lifting them up and encouraging Kurt to get on all fours. 

Blaine allows himself a moment to admire the sight of Kurt’s thick thighs and the tightly packed apple of his ass before he wills himself to get to business. He looks down at his palm, feeling suddenly clammy. He’s done all the research, he  _knows_  this a thing that people do safely and often, but the thought of touching Kurt’s body with anything even resembling force right now has him tensing, and not in a sexy way. 

“Blaine?” 

He looks up to see Kurt peering at him over his shoulder. 

“Yes?” He asks, praying his hesitation isn’t perceptible. Kurt needs this, Blaine said he would do it, and he’ll get it together, any second now. Really. 

Kurt considers him carefully for a moment, face still wanton but making a clear attempt to rearrange itself. 

“ _You_  can stop this at any point too, you know,” Kurt says, like it’s a revelation to him. It certainly feels like one to Blaine. 

“I said I’d do it, though,” Blaine responds, lamely. He’s almost sure he wants to, even. It’s just feeling different in practice than it had in theory. 

“You’re allowed to change your mind,” and then he’s sitting back, his lovely ass dropping against his calves as he spins on his knees to face Blaine, a little awkwardly. 

“No,” Blaine shakes his head. “I want to. I’ve been thinking about it since you took that tongue piercing out. I just...please, Kurt, if it stops feeling good you  _need_  to tell me. And please don’t act like I should just take it as a given that you will, because you get in these headspaces where you feel like you need to...I don’t know, prove something to yourself, and it can get reckless and I don’t want to be involved in anything that you’ll regret.” 

It all comes out in a rushed stream. He’s trying not to wince. Kurt can be so quick to anger and this was probably not the ideal time to drop this rant, but something about his raised palm hovering near Kurt’s vulnerable ass sent thoughts of botched tattoos and alleyways and bruises running through his head, and he knows all those things turned out alright, but they might not have. And maybe this isn’t the big deal he’s made it out to be in his head, but it feels like it is. 

“I know,” Kurt says, soft and apologetic, and Blaine thinks his mouth must drop open in shock. But that’s Kurt. Zigging instead of zagging. Like always. “I’ll tell you, I promise, okay? You have to trust me.” 

Blaine is silent, processing. 

“Do you trust me?” Kurt asks after a few moments, eyes clear and curious. 

“Yes,” Blaine says, and it feels like a decision. He’s ready now. “Now get back on all fours so I can slap your butt.” 

“Blaine, oh my god,” Kurt’s laughing, face open and scrunchy. 

Kurt makes no move and so Blaine kisses him, bringing a hand down to his crotch to gauge how much momentum they lost in their conversational detour. Noting that he’s still half-full, he opens his mouth, gliding his tongue against Kurt’s as he patiently rubs him back to full hardness. Disentangling his mouth from Kurt’s, he lowers himself enough to run a few hard licks around and against a taut nipple, blindly reaching for the vibrator. He strings wet kisses up the center of Kurt’s chest as he places the head of the toy against the spit-lubed nipple, switching it on and grounding Kurt with an arm around his waist when he squirms beneath it. 

The quiet hum of the vibrator is soon joined by Kurt’s breathy moans, growing faster and higher in pitch when Blaine flicks the button up again, moving the hand around Kurt’s waist back down to his straining cock, pressing down with his palm and letting Kurt rut up into it at his own pace. After a few moments of frantic bucking, Blaine takes his hand away and shuts Billy back off. He expects a whine, but Kurt only looks down at him, aglow and grateful.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Kurt wheezes, taking a moment to give himself a quick squeeze before spinning around on his knees and crawling forward until his rounded ass is raised and presented in full. The inline of his crack is still visible through the sucked-in fabric of the underwear Blaine had insisted he wear, the fleshy lower curve of each cheek puffing out where the material has ridden up. 

Blaine quickly massages the globes of his ass, thumbs stroking over the exposed bottoms, before he raises his hand, palm slightly cupped, and snaps it against a clothed buttock with enough force to make Kurt wobble on his limbs a little, hissing. 

“Was that--”

“No, it was good,” Kurt assures him, the utterance slightly strained. He wiggles his ass a little higher into the air. “You may continue.” 

Blaine targets the opposite side next, increasing the force as he lays another muffled thwack against the upper curve. Kurt audibly inhales before immediately pushing his ass further back in implicit encouragement. 

Staring momentarily at the tensing of Kurt’s thigh muscles, Blaine allows several still moments to pass, hoping to keep the rhythm of the hits unpredictable. When he sees Kurt’s head beginning to crane back curiously, Blaine deals another, heftier blow on the exact spot he’d just struck.

Kurt gasps. 

Before he has a chance to react beyond that, Blaine lands a softer, rapid smack on the same left cheek, not even allowing a beat to pass before his palm is making vicious contact with the now neglected right. His hand cracks against the right cheek one, two,  _three_  more times, each blow growing louder and more forceful. 

He pauses, sweat collecting at the nape of his neck. He can hear his own frenzied heartbeat, the staccato thrum of it overwhelming all his other senses. Panting, Blaine looks down at Kurt’s sprawled form, conscious of the fact that he’s fallen from his hands onto his elbows, head smushed into the mattress and his back dramatically sloping upward to his colorfully garbed ass. Blaine imagines the splotches of pink that have surely already cropped up beneath all that aqua overlay, and has to bite his lip to keep himself from tugging the briefs down and resuming his attack until all is red, red, red. 

Blaine breathes in, then out, willing himself to regain composure. He hadn’t expected it to feel anything like this, intoxicatingly powerful as it is. Kurt’s flesh is his to color, and he sees the appeal of the life of a tattoo artist now, recognizes it as the same appeal that had led him to so carefully craft his band of blazer-cloaked Warblers so long ago and to later pull together felt and button eyes until he’d created rainbow-dyed versions of everyone who had ever resisted him, Kurt especially, who he’s only ever wanted to see still and safe--

He hears a squeal and looks down to see both his hands absently slapping at Kurt’s naked outer thighs, fast and hard and in alternating tempo, patches of pale red darkening beneath the relentless swipes. 

Blaine stops immediately, head clearing as he rubs long, soothing circles up and down Kurt’s hips, listening closely to Kurt’s trembling intakes of breath and whimpering exhales. Panic twists nauseatingly in his belly. 

“Kurt? Is this okay, god, are you okay?” 

“Y-yes,” Kurt stutters after a moment, sounding completely and utterly  _wrecked_. “It’s so good, it’s so much...don’t stop. Unless -- are  _you_  okay?”

Blaine hesitates, heart still pounding. Truth be told, he hadn’t been prepared for this. When he’d imagined it, he’d pictured himself standing, stoic and dutiful, doing as Kurt wished with little personal investment beyond making him feel good. But everything in him feels newly enlivened, limbs tingling and brain sparking in ways both wonderful and terrifying. 

“Blaine?” Kurt asks, voice still blurry. 

“Yeah, Kurt, I’m fine. I just need to...calm down? Can we use the toy for a bit and then go back?”

“Of course,” Kurt mumbles, bleary but contented. “Love Billy.” 

Blaine laughs softly, the customary sound of Kurt’s gentle voice helping him regain control of his mental and physical state. 

“I love you,” Blaine says, because it feels necessary. 

“Oh, mmm, yes. Me too,” Kurt moves an arm back, attempting to pull his underwear off while maintaining his position.

“Let me,” Blaine offers, slipping his thumbs beneath the hem and pulling down, smiling as Kurt’s arm flops back down uselessly near his head. 

The slow reveal of Kurt’s ass is always one that Blaine enjoys, and it’s made especially remarkable this time by the haphazard splotches of darkened pink scattered across the pale expanse of skin. Blaine runs his lips across the patches of new color, soothing and reverential. Kurt hums happily, pressing his thighs closer together to aid Blaine in getting the briefs fully off. With a lingering lick up a particularly reddened blotch near the crack, Blaine backs away to finally rid Kurt entirely of this last piece of clothing, laughing when Kurt stretches one long leg out at a time so he can slip each leg hole out over his ankles. 

Kurt widens the distance between his thighs and tucks his knees in closer to his chest, back arching and giving Blaine the most obscene possible display of his blessedly nude ass. 

“Show-off,” Blaine teases, re-tracing the ruddy marks atop it with his fingertips. 

Kurt only shimmies his hips in response. A surprise smack against an especially angry-looking blot of red on the side of his thigh makes him gulp, though, hips stilling. 

Blaine picks the bottle of lube up, grasping Kurt’s left ass cheek with his free hand and pulling it away, unearthing the tender, brick-pigmented skin trailing toward his crease-rimmed hole. With a throb of arousal, he places the bottle’s opening at the top of Kurt’s spread cleft, squeezing. The lube drips down the length of the split, and Blaine waits patiently until it’s coated just past the darkened cavity to rub rough circles against the sensitive rim with his thumb. Kurt twitches beneath him, crying out and attempting to clamp down around the fingertip at his opening, the crinkled muscle convulsing sporadically. Grunting, Blaine teasingly presses the flat pad of his thumb tip in, allowing Kurt only an inkling of the penetration his hole seems so hungry for. 

He withdraws both hands to pick the toy up, keeping a peckish eye on the released ass cheek as it bounces back into place, leaving just a hint of the shadowy inner flesh visible. Rubbing a thin layer of lubricant over the entirety of the vibrator’s length, Blaine flips it in his hand to ensure that the curve will lean toward Kurt’s belly button upon insertion, right against the prostate. 

Taking the right cheek in hand this time, Blaine flicks Billy on to its softest setting, situating the tip at the highest point of Kurt’s dusky-pink crack and applying light pressure. Kurt shivers, moaning a soft “ _oh_ ,” and Blaine slowly, wetly inches it downward, lingering and increasing force at the pucker before quickly sliding it the rest of the way down, then up once more, thumb hitting the control button a couple of times to intensify the vibrations twofold. He settles it back at Kurt’s rim, applying still pressure and rubbing hard strokes in oscillating fluctuation, heart rate escalating as Kurt’s hips begin unconsciously pushing back, the downward dip of his back intensifying as his front arches closer toward the mattress, breathy moans growing lustier and more erratic. 

“Blaine, p-please--” Kurt spits out, muscles in his back visibly tensing. 

With a final circular stroke, Blaine presses the narrow tip inside, upping the vibration power once more as it slides in with minimal resistance. Kurt is gasping, emitting soft, incoherent trills of  _oh yes yes yes please more now Blaine fuck_ and Blaine pushes it the rest of the way in, biting his lower lip as he eagerly watches the bright silicone red of the toy slowly sink into the depths between Kurt’s quivering pinkened cheeks. 

Kurt’s breath hitches as he slowly takes the full length, letting out a soft sigh when the base of the toy finally hits his rim. Blaine lets go, curious to see if Kurt will be able to hold the vibrator in without Blaine supporting the base. It’s still for a moment, the white base sticking out snugly, until it begins sliding out, centimeter by centimeter. Kurt’s grunting now, and Blaine finally intervenes when the toy has slid out enough that he can see the lube-shiny red of its shaft poking out. Blaine pumps the vibrations up once more before shoving the entire thing back into Kurt, roughly, delighting in Kurt’s squeal and the rocking of his hips. 

Pressing the toy in with as much force as he can muster, Blaine listens carefully to the sounds coming from Kurt as he shifts it around inside his channel, seeking out the prostate. When Kurt’s full body jerks and his breath stills like he wants to say something before settling for a broken whimper instead, Blaine knows he’s found it, pressing harder. The shaking of Kurt’s muscled thighs heightens with each passing second, the quiet  _bzzzzzt_  of the toy getting increasingly drowned out by Kurt’s high-pitched gasps. Blaine wriggles the toy slightly, bearing down harder and laying a soft smack to Kurt’s left thigh just as Kurt begins whining his name aloud. 

“Blaine, please, I need -- your hand--” Kurt’s plea is almost comically high-pitched, punctuated with breathy exhales that send new waves of blood rushing down to Blaine’s cock. 

“Can you hold Billy in on your own?” Blaine wants both hands free if he’s to do this properly, and the thought of Kurt having the added struggle of clamping around the toy tight enough to keep it from falling out is making his own hole twitch with interest. 

“I can...I can try,” Kurt manages, and Blaine looks over to see him slightly craning his head toward him, ears flushed crimson and face still smushed against the mattress. “If I fail you can just spank me harder.” 

“Oh my god, Kurt,” and Blaine finds himself feeling again like he’s somehow the more vulnerable of the two, even with Kurt spread out, buck ass naked, and depending on Blaine to keep a vibrator lodged inside him. 

“Let go,” Kurt demands, and Blaine can feel the base of the toy shifting slightly in his fist. He realizes with a giddy coil in his chest that Kurt is squeezing around it already, testing it and his own capacity to hold it in. 

Blaine does as Kurt commands, releasing his grip and biting back a comment about who’s  _really_  in control here. He thinks he knows the answer. 

He allows Kurt a few moments to adjust. After Kurt has altered his position slightly, his curved palm makes speedy contact with Kurt’s right ass cheek. The unexpected loudness of the smack on bare skin makes Blaine recoil slightly in surprise, but the redness blooming beneath his hand helps him recover. He moves to the left cheek, thwacking just a touch harder, following it up immediately with an even harder one. Then, back to the right, once more to the left, and three more to the right again, in quick and intensifying succession. 

He belts the left cheek with a newly flattened palm, relishing in the sting of his hand and the quiet shout that spills from Kurt’s throat. He moves on to trail rough slaps down the mound and toward his hair-covered thigh, moving gradually toward its most inner part and feeling a jolt in his cock-nipples-asshole with the loud sharp sound of each moment of impact. His right palm joins the onslaught, bombarding Kurt’s other fleshy sides with smarting spanks, the simultaneous, asymmetrical workings of both hands creating a layered and chaotic rhythmic pulse that has Kurt near-screaming. Blaine had no idea simple skin-on-skin could be so  _loud_ , never knew that Kurt could sound so  _desperate_ , and would have never thought that the simple  _noisiness_  of this would somehow be as arousing as the feel of the slaps themselves and the sight of Kurt’s ever-reddening fatty cheeks jiggling beneath the brutal ministrations of his palms and fingers. 

Blaine pauses, pulling both hands back and catching his breath, staring down to examine his handiwork: the ordinarily creamy-white skin of Kurt’s thighs and backside is  _lava_  red, redder even than the few inches of Billy’s shaft that are now protruding out from between his cheeks and slipping out even further despite Kurt’s attempts to pull it back in. 

Blaine grabs it by the base before it has a chance to slide out completely and fall to the floor, shoving it back into Kurt’s hole in one swift, fluid motion. Kurt screams, shoving his hips back against it and frantically bouncing on his knees to get the vibrations where he needs them most. Blaine pushes up in the direction of his navel, stilling when Kurt shouts, “ _yes, oh god, right there, don’t move, please,_ ” and giving the button panel a final crank up toward the toy’s most powerful height. With his free right arm, Blaine flattens his palm, spreads his fingers, and delivers a relentless series of vicious blows to Kurt’s already-crimson ass cheek, so rough and fast his own hand cramps in agony. Blaine is so swept up in the vibrations running up his arm and the bright stinging in his palm that he allows himself to press his torso forward and rub his throbbing, clothed hard-on against the pummeled flesh of Kurt’s thigh, the awkwardness of the angle doing nothing to deter him from pressing hard against the toy at Kurt’s prostate and pounding his hand against him even harder. 

Kurt’s cries have grown maddened, body lurching and legs trembling as the thwacks against his skin keep coming, merciless and overwhelming just as he’d desired, his luxury massager buried as far up his clenching channel as it can go and sending rumbling vibrations against and through his prostate and the stretched-out rim of his hole.  

Blaine lets go of the toy’s base for a second, permitting it to begin slipping out again before grasping it with his right hand and forcing it back in, harder than even before, using his newly freed hand to unleash a barrage of smacks against Kurt’s woefully neglected left cheek, fast rough and unevenly patterned. The new position has the unfortunate effect of putting distance between his dick and Kurt’s leg, and he’s now hyperconscious of the feel of fabric stretching against the head of his straining erection, but it’s fine because Kurt is close, Blaine can tell by the way his screams are dissolving into choked sobs and the way the frenzied movements of his hips have grown erratic beneath his palm. 

Blaine stares down at the piece of plastic white sticking out of Kurt and releases it again, aiming his next slap directly over it, the palm making pained contact with the hardness of the toy while his fingers and wrist each hit a cheek. Kurt shrieks, falling forward off of his elbows, and Blaine directs heavy blows continuously over this centered spot, each harsh smack sending the vibrator straight against Kurt’s prostate and giving both sides of his ass equal attention. Blaine’s hand must be bruising from repeated contact with the plastic of the toy but he can’t care, not when every beat makes Kurt’s alternating grunts, sobs, and yelps get louder, not when he looks down and sees Kurt rutting into the mattress, not when Kurt is as spread out and unabashedly open in his expressions of pleasure as he is right now, Blaine’s name a whispered mantra on his lips choked out between helpless cries. Blaine is both utterly at his demanding mercy and in a fragile kind of full control that has whirring pumps of blood rushing through his ears. With a choked grunt of “god,  _Kurt_ ” and a final, crashing wallop right at the center of Kurt’s filled, abused ass, Kurt howls his name, coming, body spasming and going rigid before he collapses forward into a pool of his own cum, gasping rattlingly. 

“Blaine-- oh my god,  _Blaine_ \--” Kurt’s gulping, body stilling flat against the mattress. “Take the toy out, please, I can’t--”

Blaine leaves it inside long enough to switch it off before pulling it out, wrapping it at the corner of the sheet laid out across the bed. Looking down, Blaine runs his hands softly up and across Kurt’s inflamed buttocks. Kurt shivers beneath the touch, breath catching. 

“You’re so red, Kurt, wow,” Blaine observes, worrisomely observing the raw maroon patches slowly purpling. 

“Fuck me,” is all Kurt says in response, and Blaine looks down at the side of his face to see tears streaming down his ruddied nose.  

Blaine feels a throb in his crotch at the words, wanting literally nothing more than to comply, but he hesitates. He’s already put Kurt’s body through so much, and, wow, Kurt’s  _crying_ , isn’t that strange, and it must be a good thing if he’s asking for more, but still. 

“Are you...god, Kurt, are you sure? There’s no way you’re going to be able to come again, or get hard even, I’m too close.” He tries to keep his voice measured, but it’s throatier than he can control. He’s so painfully turned on he’s reasonably sure he could hit climax before he’s even sunk fully into Kurt. 

“I don’t care, please, I just want to feel you, want you to feel good...” Kurt is quiet, breath still erratic, words difficult to make out. 

“Okay, god, okay,” Blaine agrees, pulling his sweatpants and briefs off without further debate, making similarly quick work of discarding the oversized tee he'd slid into when he got home.

Blaine crawls onto the bed, thighs straddling Kurt, before positioning himself over his hips. He contemplates for just a moment before grabbing a pillow and sticking it beneath Kurt’s crotch to allow Blaine easier access to his ass. Blaine nervously bites his lip, an “ _I’ll wash the pillowcase right after_ ” defense sitting on his tongue, but Kurt makes no protests. 

Leaning forward, Blaine licks the length of Kurt’s tattoo and kisses the base of his neck. The feel of his rock-hard cock pressed against the tender softness of Kurt’s ass becomes too much to keep the gentle shows of affection going, though, and he quickly reaches behind him to grasp the bottle sitting at the mattress’s edge and coat his cock sloppily with lube. 

He spreads Kurt open with a slick hand, examining his hole. It looks slightly dilated, still lube-shiny. 

“Do you need--”

“No,” Kurt grunts before Blaine has even had a chance to finish. 

Blaine aligns himself at Kurt’s puffy rim, sliding the tip around it to test the effectiveness of their combined state of lubrication before sinking in, satisfied. The intensity of the immediate hot clench around the hypersensitive head of his cock sends mingled flares of pleasure and fear rushing through him, because  _oh god_  he is going to come embarrassingly quickly. 

“Kurt, oh god--” He inches in further, breath catching. “Don’t--  _ah_!” He’s plunged in fully now, the unblemished skin of his hips rubbing against Kurt’s spank-chapped ass, his cock nestled wholly in the velvety pull that has somehow never felt as clenchingly tight as it does right now. Blaine moans, an uncharacteristically high-pitched sound that inspires Kurt to cease his quiet sniffling and giggle. “Kurt, god...don’t...don’t judge me if I come in under thirty seconds, o-okay?” 

Kurt makes a soft purring noise and clamps down around him, inner walls squeezing impossibly hard and ass cheeks pinched together. Blaine all but collapses down onto Kurt’s sweat-moistened back with a grunt, arms giving out from under him. Chest and belly pressed flush against Kurt’s back, Blaine kisses the side of his neck that he can reach, biting down slightly when Kurt unclenches for just a second before strategically compressing his muscles down around Blaine’s cock again. It feels  _incredible_ , intimate and sensual, Blaine able to focus on every voluntary and involuntary twitch of Kurt’s rectum without having to concentrate on moving or thrusting or holding himself up. He feels newly attuned to every pulse and rhythm of Kurt’s body, the warm flexing pressure around his shaft leaving him hot all over and puffing breathless moans into Kurt’s ear. 

Blaine considers rolling his hips before deciding to surrender instead to the leisurely pace of Kurt’s spasming channel, each squeezing contraction sending him closer and closer to the edge. Kurt’s so tight, so warm, so open,  _so_  vulnerable like this, and Blaine is feeling the basest quirks of Kurt’s body in a way Kurt has never allowed anyone else to, not ever, not even when they were broken up; Kurt had to rely on plastic and silicone to get himself off to keep this for Blaine and Blaine alone.

Kurt rolls his hips up against Blaine, clamping down  _hard_  with a moaning grunt of effort, and the combined intensified heat and pressure sends Blaine spilling over the brink, crying out, pumps of cum flowing into Kurt’s still-clamped ass as Blaine whimpers his name and feels the ecstatic void of release. He’s coming, explosively, harder than maybe ever before, and without even a single proper thrust; Kurt’s amazing, so tight and clever and so completely and totally his _\-- "Ungh!"_  


Blaine allows himself to fall fully atop Kurt, gasping and trembling in post-orgasm haze. Kurt laughs a little, shifting beneath Blaine.

“Can we move onto our sides? I want you to hold me for a second.” 

Blaine blinks, surprised and still sex-dizzy. Him and Kurt cuddle frequently, but never so shortly after sex, when they’re both still sweaty and messy, and  _never_  at Kurt’s own urging. He’s all too happy to comply, though, and so he does, gently pulling out of Kurt before rolling onto his side and watching as Kurt follows suit, back facing Blaine. 

Blaine’s hand drops to Kurt’s ass, rubbing lightly. He’s a little taken aback still by the intense color of it; he’d looked at pictures online and knew what to expect, but seeing it in front of him wasn’t anything he could have prepared for. 

“How do you feel?” Blaine asks, whispered. 

“Amazing,” Kurt breathes. “You?” 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

“Thank you,” Kurt snuggles his back closer. “I needed that.” 

Blaine wraps his arm around the side of Kurt’s waist, nuzzling his nose into the crook of his neck. “I bought some cream to rub on you, to prevent bruising.” 

“Awww.” Blaine can  _hear_  the smile in Kurt’s voice. “After we shower.” 

“Okay,” Blaine agrees, closing his eyes and relishing the feel of Kurt so close to him, his stubble-prickly chest slowly rising and falling beneath Blaine’s forearm. 

“What did you end up doing with Billy?” Kurt interrupts, suddenly. Blaine’s eyes snap open. “You didn’t drop him to the floor, did you?” 

“No,” Blaine laughs. “He’s wrapped into a corner of this sheet somewhere.” 

“Ah.” Blaine can feel Kurt relax again. “How did you end up liking him?” 

“I like how much  _you_  liked him,” Blaine smiles. “It felt intense. Maybe I should try him one of these days.” 

Blaine raises his head to peek at Kurt’s profile, unsurprised to find his nose wrinkled. “If you buy your own, sure,” Kurt says finally, mouth twisting wryly. 

Laughing, Blaine rests his head back against Kurt’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut again. The two of them lay there, pressed close and breathing heavily, for several blissful minutes until Kurt speaks up again. 

“I want to show you something,” Kurt says, sounding resolute. Blaine opens his eyes to see Kurt sitting up and getting off the bed with a wince, throwing his head over his shoulder to give Blaine that terrifying coy look he’d first seen after the piercing. 

“Oh god,” Blaine says immediately. He doesn’t think he can cope with a new mysterious Kurt bombshell so soon after solving one that had plagued him for over a year. 

Kurt only smiles in response, bending down to pull that dreaded locked trunk out from under the bed. He opens it after a few moments of fiddling with the code, looking up at Blaine, adorably nervous. 

“Okay,” Kurt breathes. “This was another purchase I made under Ambien’s menacing influence while we were broken up.” 

Blaine sits up, trying not to visibly gulp. 

Kurt pulls out something white and pale blue from the trunk, large and looking like a pillow but also like a shirt and Blaine has never been more confused in his entire life. Panic swirls in his chest. Wrapping part of it around his shoulder, Kurt stands up fully, smile wide as he stands fully naked with this monstrous thing around him. 

“What...what is it?” Blaine has watched a fair amount of porn in his day, but he’s never seen anything like this. 

“It’s a boyfriend arm,” Kurt says, smile visibly dimmed and looking a little confused. “His name is Bruce,” he adds when Blaine says nothing, as if that will clarify anything. 

“What does it do?” 

“Nothing,” Kurt’s starting to sound a little defensive. “It’s a pillow that creates the illusion of human touch.” 

Kurt drops a hand to his hip, shrinking a little. 

Blaine needs to stare at the arm of it draped over his shoulder for only a second longer before the simple reality of the sight before him finally makes sense. 

“Oh!” Blaine’s laughing, face red and relieved. “I’m sorry. I thought it was a sex thing.” 

Kurt grins, hopping back onto the bed with the thing --  _Bruce_  -- still at his side. Blaine feels it, pecking Kurt on the cheek as his hands slide over the smooth, soft material. 

“Aw, Kurt,” Blaine feels overcome with love for this man, his  _fiancé_ , who genuinely thought a human-shaped pillow was more shameful and worth keeping secret than a sex toy. “Did Bruce treat you well?” 

Kurt smacks him playfully on the bicep. “He did what he could. I started using him again after you’d moved out, actually.” 

“Oh,” Blaine feels the slightest twinge of sadness, but pushes it away. They’re fine. Those days are long behind them. “Well, you’ve got me now.” 

“I know,” Kurt tilts his head forward just a touch, his usual Kurt code for  _please god kiss me now_. And Blaine does, gripping the soft, long line of his neck with a hand and whispering an  _I love you_  into his mouth as he pulls away. 

“So,” Blaine says finally after a few quiet, contented moments. “Bruce, Billy...sounds to me like you have something of a  _B_  problem.” 

“Oh gosh,” Kurt barks out a laugh, surprised. He turns to consider Blaine more closely, blue eyes glimmering playfully. “Poor substitutes for the  _B_  I really wanted, I guess.” 

“Me?” Blaine widens his eyes, allowing faux surprise to arrange his features. 

Kurt smacks Blaine lightly across the head with the pillow, and he’s standing up by the time Blaine has moved it away from himself and stopped giggling long enough to look over. 

“Come on,” Kurt insists. “Let’s shower. I need you to rub this alleged ointment all over my wrecked ass, which stings a lot by the way,  _wow_.” 

Blaine moves off the bed, joining him and lightly touching a round, sore cheek. 

“It will be my genuine pleasure,” Blaine utters, watching the berry reddened mounds of his ass move as Kurt turns to walk toward the bathroom, legs long and back straight. 

Blaine considers the sight, black text across Kurt’s shoulder blade and red marks running down his thighs and backside, and hopes he understands. He thinks he does. He’s only ever wanted to understand. 

When Kurt turns around, sensing some unease, and wraps his arms tightly around him, soft lips making contact with his neck, Blaine exhales with renewed relief. 

“We’re going to be fine,” he says aloud, a hushed promise into Kurt’s earlobe, and it may be the first time in his life that he’s really believed it. 


End file.
